


String Theory

by anoetic



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoetic/pseuds/anoetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Bill, there was no such thing as no strings attached.</p>
            </blockquote>





	String Theory

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are appreciated and encouraged, thank you!

He had established to me, the tangles of our relationship. I could not adjust the strings, for that would only serve to upset him because my threads of hope were intricately woven around his neck. For the remainder of the life that I would share with my brother, I was to become those strings, my bones as raw and rugged as the microcosms of fabric and frailty that made up the body of much of our relationship. Yet, each time I had decided to strike up the courage (this was often when I was feeling more masculine, a trait that never did adjust in my body as easily as it did his.) to refute or reconstruct my natural position in my brother's world, I would only constrict and trap myself further into the trenches of our web. These constant acts of selfish bravery amused and mocked him all at once. But it wasn't him that I sought so passionately to escape from. It was the idea of him that I wanted to abolish. The caricature that I had faithfully colorized of my brother was more beautiful than the original, but far less tragic. My idea of him had blood that no longer stained red. Instead, his body would still stand tall over me, wordlessly and mercifully reminding me of my diminishing status in his presence. His hands would still possess that organic cruelty known to only handsome boys. ( I had already quietly accepted that my beauty was of another kind, one that only served to compliment his and humble me. 

His mouth sucking loudly, roughly on mine would still enshrine my body with a shivering infatuation for the naked taste of his tongue against mine. I will also tell you that my idea of my brother was resolute in keeping the integrity of his unrivaled talent in fucking the shit out of me. Both my image of my brother and the one I knew in reality, (which was just a hazy afternoon daydream that involved him delicately grazing his fingers through my hair as he flowered my mind with filth, his greatest skill, his lips wet along the heat of my ear as he whispers to me how tight my "pussy" is, how fucking hard he is and that he wants to cover me in all his fucking come. This was reality on countless occasions for me.) gleefully agreed that my older brother was a master of sex and that was not something I needed to dismiss or refute, nor did I have the right to. (My body would always force me to plead guilty.) So when I finally take a deep breath, I look at him and my heart suffers. My love for my brother becomes poetic. Through all of the commotion outside, of parties and alcoholic beverages, of adults devolving into children, he had stolen me away and cornered me against the back of the building. (I don't say "us" because I have already admitted to myself that there is only one victim here. There is only one criminal and I refuse to believe that my brother takes responsibility for his actions; not when they pertain to me.) That is why I don't resist when he effortlessly pins me against cold stone. Up above, a staircase becomes an unfamiliar ceiling, a cradle. The pitch black night sky above becomes our audience.

I think this is the last time he and I will go out to dinner parties.

He smirks at me, warm eyes married with devilish intent already tattooing my skin. For some reason, I smile at him and he laughs softly underneath his breath. It terrifies me. His arms have my body and my freedom secured. I don't wish to run away from my brother, my destiny. And when he steps closer to me, Adonis body, right knee cruelly digging into my crotch, I let loose a sigh's worth of pleasure. I can feel birds singing in my head, church bells ringing and when I blink my eyes again I see no one, nothing but Tom. My heart begins to race.

"Oh God."

He laughs again, voice sweet and low, making my nerves short-circuit and my rationale go mute, right knee cap twisting against my erection. He licks his lips and like a doll mimicking its master, I do the same though maybe for different reasons. My brother lets his thumb lazily drag down the shell of my bottom lip, fingertip hot and unconsciously my lip neatly bends to his hypnotism, wanting so badly to have that thumb to suck on. "I don't think so," he whispers and he rifles a hand through my hair and forces my head back, my neck beautifully displayed to him like a sacrifice and this is where our love-making begins. The touch of his lips agonizes me, shamefully gentle and pretty along sensitive plains of nervous skin. I hesitate to let my brother know how grateful I am to have him nurture me so perfectly and so I press my palm flat on the side of his thigh and immediately, I can feel his entire being panic and I almost regret my boldness, but instead of striking me or making me frantically rethink every decision I have ever made in my adult life, Tom does something unexpected. He grins into the gaping envelope of my mouth and guides my trembling hand onto the bulge in his pants. "Oh God." He laughs into my mouth and mindlessly I absorb the shallow vibrations of his voice, the heaviness of his need for me. My love for him travels through every vein in my body as I teasingly brush my fingers up and down his erection, my sexuality flourishing underneath his tongue. My bravery is rewarded with several heated clumps of bites down the pulse point of my throat.

"We could get caught, you know."

He says this to me as if it were a warning when it was grossly the opposite.  
It was an invitation. 

His knee was writhing against my arousal and at this point, I was beginning to clumsily, helplessly grind myself along the length of his thigh and that's when his tolerance for me subsided. His lips curved against my jawline and I shivered. "Off," he murmured into my mouth. I nodded breathlessly, words no longer a necessity to my lungs as I hastily unbuttoned my jeans, quickly becoming the symbol of submission. My lips still begged to know his again, my eyes lingering over my brother's face and he responds, the warmth of his hand caressing the ache of my love for him, fingertips tip-toeing along the cream of my cheek. He finds the secret annex of my love and as I had hoped, desecrates it. "Underwear, too," he orders, the seriousness of his voice raining down the shivering hills of my naked thighs. "Oh God." When the last of my modesty slinks to the ground, I can feel his frustration dwindle into something euphoric. Tom glances at me, eyes clouded with sex and my heart stutters. He wets his lips again and I do too, dribbles of precome dotting my stomach. I saw no need to question my brother for he was the undeniable Master of my world, the creator of my Paradise and he appreciates this as he hums lowly in his throat, careful to look over his shoulder in case somebody was on the prowl. (My brother had grown accustomed to the parallels of thievery and sex because the two are so closely related. I know that he was scared someone was going to steal a look at me, his most precious diamond, a theft that I'm not sure he realizes, is one he commits willingly almost every day.) 

He turns back to me once he's certain that we're in the clear to be as nasty as we want, eyes dark and body so very very hard. "We've got to be quick," he says and I nod my head, unyielding in my devotion to him and the idea of him, which was now easily melding into his body. His fingers are traveling down the treasured curve of my spine, my skin becoming golden underneath his magnificent touch. He stops painfully short at the crease of my ass and he looks at me, admiration pooling between his lips. I know this silence very well and my legs numb, waves of sensation washing over me. "You know what I want you to do?" I shake my head, my determination already dissolving into fairy dust into the bowl of his hands. He laughs once more, smooth fingers knitting themselves into the roots of my hair as he pulls at my scalp, causing me to cry out. This infuriates him as his eyes widen, nostrils flared lips thin as he smacks me hard across my face. "Don't make a goddamn sound, understand?" My heart sings, fever chills of obscene excitement ripple down the shores of my legs as I nod my head fervently, closing my eyes in order to savor my brother's discipline. Fortunately, the sound of his voice thrust me into reality once more and I am in awe of his humanity. He smirks, deviance raw and brutal, seeps between the corners of his mouth as he brings his lips to the heat of my ear. "I want you to show me how you play with yourself. Show me how you come." My eyes nearly roll into the back of my skull and the coolness of the wall only pushes me deeper down the rabbit hole of my arousal. I clasp a hand over my mouth, exhaling.

"Oh my God."

My brother has become one of the filthiest people alive and consequently, I hold his hand in becoming the second filthiest person alive. This is an honor that he rightfully deserves as he drags his tongue along the arch of my neck, eager to watch his baby brother deflower himself for his pure enjoyment, but I am faithful, a testament to the beauty of devotion and my hand shakily coils itself around the tip of my erection, pearls of precome seeping between quivering fingers. Suddenly, I become delinquent, my body small and unrecognizable underneath his unforgiving authority. My strokes are embarrassingly child-like and unfulfilled. I gasp, hissing through my teeth as I drop my forehead onto his shoulder, saliva messing his sweater. My brother is enamoured by how selfless my surrender is and with a harsh slap of his hand on my ass, he promises to place flowers on my grave. "Don't make me have to punish you," he croons, death glittering on his tongue as he groans into my ear. My skin blossoms into gooseflesh, my breath hitching as I moan into the warmth of his sweater, my fingers gluing themselves to my cock, struggling to perfect their movements and I let out another strained vibrato of love sighs. This one seems to have moved him and feeling that I am deserving of it, begins to praise me. "That's much better, Billa. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward this time." 

"Please."

I whine into his neck, bruised lips suckling hungrily at tanned skin. His fingers frisk through my golden fields of hair, panic waves fluttering through his bones as his breath quickens, sex ardent on his mouth as he moistens his lips once more, preparing his sermon. "Wanna fuck you right now, Billa." My lids open and I whimper loudly into the hollow of his neck, afraid of how violent my love for him really is. Butterflies surge through my veins and my heart crumbles into the birdcage of my ribs. (He has lived there, too.) I nod hysterically, my breathing twisting into a sweet accelerando as I begin to furiously jut my hips into the cradle of my hand. Lines of static buzz in my head, violin strings crying between my ears as Tom's voice becomes my reality and his dick, my fantasy. He groans again into the shell of my ear and already, I can feel my body euthanize into an immovable bliss and I haven't even come yet. "P-please," I whisper, my voice barely real as it is compressed into his skin. My brother understands, his hand groping at his clothed erection, his attention still only on me, and this intimacy arouses me all the more. "W-want you," I moan into the wetness of his mouth, my lips quivering as my hips continue to stutter into my hand. I'm close. He groans louder, forgetting his scout's honor of silence, uncaring of our unfamiliar ceiling, of the danger he has allowed me to know for he has existed solely to create this very moment; the moment before climax. "Want you, too," he sighs, hand branding my ass, anxiously kneading precious flesh. The authority of his feel ignites in me, a survival mode of desperation for him and I can tell that he has almost arrived at the very place from which I am about to depart. "You want this dick?" I yelp into his shoulder, almost coming.

"Yes yes yes yes want you want it all need it all please please please." The lights are dimming in our hallway and I can no longer remember what it feels like to be pure and honestly, I don't think I care. And so, with the cunning of his mouth, I let him defile me. His fingers dig into the crease of my ass and he bites down on my collarbone. My hand on my cock deadens and his shoulder blade is wet with tears, saliva, and me. He purrs into my ear, sensing that my body is on the edge of Eden and he congratulates himself, his index finger wedging itself into my trembling hole, a piss poor substitute for his dick but I don't complain for that was the tragedy of his wit. My brother sought to deny me what he wanted to give me most and for that, I will never cease to thank him. "W-want your dick, Tomi," I gasp, expressing it more as a thought rather than a confession. He curses through his teeth, unforgivably horny, and he hastily shoves another tired finger inside me and I can feel the the seeds of my orgasm sprouting, wreathing itself around every fissure in my body. My vision denigrates into a lunareum of crystal white as my hand continues to tirelessly work, dead set on giving my brother exactly what he asked for. My eyes permanently shut as my pleasure becomes real in my bones, wildflowers shooting up out of my ribcage and into my mouth as my legs tremble. But before he grants me my wings, he asserts his dominion over me, solidifying my destiny as his lips tickle my earlobe. "Wanna watch you come thinking about your big brother's dick balls deep inside you, Billa."

And with my brother's final blessing, I come with a startling shout, my hips bucking wildly into my hand as it's showered in white. My other hand clamors for him, anchoring itself into his black forest of dreads. "Oh god oh god oh god." I whimper pathetically, hoarsely into the heat of his neck, peppering it with daisy chains of clumsy kisses as storms of butterflies sweep through my system, my orgasm erupting, scarring my body into dust as the violins crescendo, my breathing upturned and weathered as his lips find mine, sweetly swallowing my fear as his hands smooth themselves along the blush of my cheeks. His thumb dips between my lips and I accept his gift without hesitancy and suck happily, moaning softly at the overpowering taste of him and I on my tongue. He smiles as he lovingly pets my hair, pleased by my exhaustion, of my dedication to his will. He sighs, tenderness fresh on his lips as he presses a kiss to my sweaty forehead. He quietly helps me re-position myself, zipping up my jeans and fixing my hair as we prepare ourselves to return to the world, to the strict codes of morality that always seem to escape us. Tom's hand slinks down to mine and his fingers brush the naked palm of my own. Hidden neatly in the home of this gesture is the root of his love for me and when he wraps his fingers around mine, squeezing them gently in a temporary goodbye as we take our first steps into the world again, I no longer mind the strings by which, we are attached.


End file.
